Between the Notes: Making Art's Cello

by James N. McKean, Jack McKean (Illustrator)

After losing their close friend and colleague Art Toman to leukemia, violin makers James McKean and Guy Rabut work together to build a cello in his honor. As the instrument takes form through the traditions of a centuries-old craft, they complete a journey that the three of them had begun together, while giving their friendship a timeless voice in an ever-changing world.

This book is no longer in print.

First published November 16, 2012

About the author

I’ve been a violinmaker since 1973, when I was among the first group of students at the first school for the craft in America, started that year in Salt Lake City. After graduating I returned to New York – I’d grown up north of the city, in Chappaqua – to work under an expert in restoration and setup. While learning restoration I continued making instruments. Researching varnish recipes led me back to the Renaissance and methods of surface preparation and painting materials. I had by this time begun writing for Strings Magazine on various aspects of the violin. An article on the 20th anniversary of the school in Salt Lake was my first experience beyond technical writing. Character, dialog, the arc of a story; I was hooked. Thousands of pages later, several manuscripts begun, finished, set aside; and then a fortuitous introduction to an agent led to active commercial interest in something I had written. Nothing came of it, but it was the same flash of insight I had experienced back when I was a student of Russian and had read an article about a violinmaker’s apprenticeship in Europe: yes, people do make violins. And now, yes: books do get published. I had grown up in a literary family – my grandfather was an author, my father an editor and writer, my mother a librarian – and yet the actual world of publishing had seemed as distant as Utah had, when I had first dropped out of college and headed west for an improbable future.

At the same time that I was deep into the books and old manuscripts on the methods of the old Italian artists I met an amateur violinist who became not just a client but a close friend. A quantum physicist, he would at our occasional lunches tell me stories of studying with Neils Bohr and Walter Heisenberg. I began to read general histories of science, and then physics; and then the two worlds of physics and art converged, and the idea for Quattrocento was born. In the process of the novel coming to fruition I discovered what a rare combination of hard work and pure luck are required, and more, what the world of publishing looked like from the inside.

The process is so all-consuming, though, that I had to set my tools aside. I was very glad to get back to the bench. I continued writing about fiddles for the magazine, but my plans for the next novel continually got postponed: there was always a set of wood beckoning. And – the truth? – Writing is just very, very hard work. And solitary. More so than making fiddles; when you write, you leave this world for another. Making violins, though, places you in the center of this world: there is no place better to be than listening to Lester Young or Benny Goodman and carving a scroll. Unless it’s watching your son play baseball or walk onto a stage.

And then a close friend whom we had gone to violinmaking school with succumbed to leukemia. Along with another friend he and I had been making a set of three violins; using identical sets of wood and patterns, we were curious to see how different the results would be. We finished Art’s violin; and then decided to make a cello in his memory and give it to Juilliard. Quattrocento had been about love, the good old American popular song kind; but I wanted to somehow, if I could, draw a portrait of a deeper and more abiding affection: friendship. The result is Between the Notes, which I’m publishing with Northshire Books.

And meanwhile, I go on making violins. Cellos, mostly; I just finished a 5-string cello for Carter Brey, the principal cellist of the New York Philharmonic, so that he could play the Bach 6th solo suite as originally written at a recital next month. My shop is upstairs at our house, looking out at the barn and indoor ring; my girlfriend has an active riding business – arcadiafarminc.com – in Yorktown Hts. I’ve been hearing for almost half a century that both publishing and classical music are dying. That must be in one of those parallel worlds; in this one, they’re doing just fine.

Reviews

[Shelley Watts · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had always envisioned that the makers of violins lived in the old world, but in fact, we have violin-makers right here in the U.S., creating these beautiful instruments that are being played by renowned musicians. This book brings you into the world of musical artistry, but you don't need to be an artist or classical musician to get drawn into this poignant story of love and friendship.

Violin-making is really the backdrop to an incredibly moving story of friendship and the pain and loss suffered when someone you love faces a terminal illness. Anyone who has suffered this kind of loss will connect with this story and be moved and inspired by how the author channeled his pain into something that healed and honored his friend. And you will have a mind opening journey into the art of violin-making through the story and wonderful illustrations.

I recommend this book with whole heart.

[Lise Sorensen · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is actually quite a page-turner ! It reads a bit like a detective novel (picture Humphrey Bogart,Guy Noir ! ),with its witty metaphors and first-person narration.

Couldn't help loving his vivid portrayal of the beautiful struggle it is to live life as a violin maker - all those ups and downs in that career are so intense.... It's quite an object lesson - I think that book should be required reading for anyone wishing to pursue a career in pure violin-making .

Besides violin-making, this book is a tender memoir about very dynamic friendships , and is much more about life and relationship than about making a cello. The author's son made delightful illustrations that made the book come even more alive.

Cheers to James Mc Kean for such a fine achievement !

[Warren Kaplan · Rating 5 out of 5]

James McKean has written a keenly sensitive memoir centered on an idea. What could he and fellow violin maker Guy Rabut do to memorialize their recently deceased friend and colleague, Art Toman? They decided to jointly build a cello in Art's honor. A fine instrument! A labor of love and respect that would keep Art's memory alive for decades. All along the way we experience the secluded, specialized world of the violin maker. The writing is relaxed, yet unambiguous. More like a personal narration from a friend over coffee on a Sunday afternoon. A marvelous and inspiring memoir. Bravo!

[Ron · Rating 5 out of 5]

An arresting and fascinating little book that tackles the meaning of what it is to be someones friend. Witty and well written we're taken into the insular little world of violin making. McKean, having the distinction of being one of the worlds best violin makers himself, is in a perfect position to weave these topics into beautiful storytelling. I was hooked from the start and read the entire book in one go.